“That was in the note you mentioned?” Starcrest said. “May I see it?”
“Of course.” Sespian handed it to him. “That’s why I came. I thought to ask your wife for a translation.”
Starcrest studied the message. “The language is familiar, isn’t it? I might have seen it in the war, intercepting a message or two.” He stared at it, then massaged his forehead, and handed the note back. “The memory eludes me now.”
The colonel, standing behind Starcrest, frowned at this admission.
“Mahliki, take them up to see your mother, please,” Starcrest said. “And then you’d best get some rest before pursuing your mission. That plant is dangerous.”
“We saw the bodies,” Amaranthe said. “Or what was left of them. How many has it killed? Is it some wizard’s spawn? Or might this assassin have an aptitude for botany?”
“Bodies?” Starcrest glanced at the colonel again.
The man stroked his chin. “There have been several reports of missing persons, but we haven’t found any bodies. If it’s killing people, it’s doing so when nobody’s watching.”
“So long as you don’t mess with the buds,” Mahliki said, sharing a significant look with Sespian.
Maldynado wondered what he had volunteered for. He had better do some research before returning to his flat.
“There were bodies—body parts—floating among beds of seaweed in the lake,” Amaranthe said. “An unfamiliar version of seaweed. The clumps might have come off the plant.”
“I see,” Starcrest said. “Mahliki, take as many men and swords with you as you think you might need. More than you think... What are you doing?”
Mahliki had unbuttoned her jacket, lifted the flap, and had her nose to her armpit as she investigated some hidden pocket.
“Listening to you,” she said brightly, lifting her head.
Starcrest’s grunt sounded dubious.
“And finding a sample for Ms. Lokdon.” Mahliki held out a vial with a dried green husk inside.
Before she let the flap of her jacket fall shut, Maldynado glimpsed several other vials and... were those scissors? And tweezers? A scalpel? Mahliki closed the jacket before he could identify other tools.
Amaranthe accepted the vial and walked over to a gas lamp with Sicarius a step behind. They examined the specimen under the light.
“You carry plant samples around with you?” Maldynado asked.
“You haven’t noticed that she clinks when she walks?” Sespian asked.
Mahliki threw him a quick glance, perhaps wondering if this was a criticism or not, then shrugged. “I carry all manner of tools around with me. A lady must be prepared whenever she chances across an interesting specimen. I’m certain that’s not that uncommon.”
“I have heard other women make similar statements,” Maldynado said, “but usually the tools they carry around are mint candies, perfumes, and makeup kits, and the specimens they’re interested in are male.”
“Plants have male and female parts.” Mahliki withdrew a small pair of scissors. “I’ll snip a sample of anything.”
Maldynado shifted his pelvis away from her. He wondered what her father thought of her snipping male parts, but Starcrest and the colonel had moved away from the group to discuss something.
Amaranthe and Sicarius returned and handed the vial back to Mahliki.
“It is the same plant,” Sicarius said.
Amaranthe shrugged. “You’ll have to take his word for it. I was too busy being distressed by the severed limbs and the vines sticking out of the eye socket of the half-eaten skull.” She shuddered.
“It was your choice to forego the hug,” Sicarius murmured softly—Maldynado blinked because he wasn’t certain he had heard correctly.
Amaranthe smiled up at him. “Those offers of physical comfort are so rare that I figure I should save them for when I really need them.”
The look Sicarius gave her was only slightly less non-emotive than the rest of his looks, but she must have read something in it, for her smile broadened.
Maldynado could not imagine those two in bed. Frankly, he couldn’t imagine any woman in Sicarius’s bed—or Sicarius with a bed for that matter. During their year working together, he had seen Sicarius sleep on the ground, in tree branches, on rooftops, and on ceiling beams, but never in something so sybaritic as a bed. It took a unique woman to appreciate a man like that.
“All should be set for the morning,” Starcrest said, returning to the group. “Sespian, I forgot to mention it—” a faint wince crossed his face again, “—but congratulations on the winning design for the presidential residence. I admit I was of a mind not to choose your entry, lest it be construed as nepotism of a sort, but Tikaya informed me that it would be just as unfair to ignore your entry because we know you. She insisted that a blind judging was called for and brought in three art and architecture professors from the university to aid in the selection process.”
“I must give her my thanks then,” Sespian said.
“Give her the arrow and the note,” Starcrest suggested. “She’ll consider a mystery to solve an even greater reward.”
“Work over flattery?”
“Just so.” Starcrest nodded to them all. “It is good to see you. I’ll leave you to the receptionists who will find rooms for those without abodes elsewhere.”
Maldynado wondered if he should accept a room in the hotel. Evrial wasn’t treating him frostily, but she had accepted a number of double shifts, and he worried she was avoiding him. No, he would go home and offer love and support—and brilliant sex—thus to tempt her to remain in the city. Her rural hometown couldn’t compete with that. He hoped.
“The diplomat?” the colonel prompted.
“Oh, yes.” Starcrest had started to turn away, but he faced Amaranthe again. “Your Mangdorian friend has returned from his homeland.”
“Basilard?” Maldynado nearly bounced—he hadn’t known when he would see Basilard again, if ever.
“Yes. He’ll want to see you all, I’m certain. He’s in room... two thirty-eight.” Starcrest glanced at the colonel. For... verification? His man nodded back.
“Thank you, My Lord,” Amaranthe said. “It’ll be good to see him again.”
“Tikaya also has a letter for you from Akstyr.”
Amaranthe beamed. Maldynado couldn’t imagine anything particularly long or effusive flowing from Akstyr’s pen. Professor Komitopis’s mother—and Akstyr’s landlord, the last Maldynado had heard—had probably insisted he send the missive.
With the news delivered, and the arrow mystery still waiting to be decoded, people said their goodnights. Starcrest hugged his daughter, murmured a few words—eliciting a promise to be careful—then departed with the colonel, saying, “Alas, more work to do before bed.” Amaranthe and Sicarius went with Sespian and Mahliki to search for Professor Komitopis, promising they would stop by to see Basilard soon. Though Maldynado was curious about the assassin, he had missed Basilard, so he trotted up the stairs to the second level right away. If Evrial chose to leave the city without him... Maldynado might have more need of a comrade to drink and game with than ever.
Nodding to himself, he knocked on the door to 238.
Naturally, no one called out with a “just a minute.” Nor did he hear footsteps, but Basilard moved about almost as silently as Sicarius, so that wasn’t unexpected, either.
The door opened, and Maldynado grinned like a mindless dandy at the familiar face. “Hullo, Bas. I heard you were in town.”
Basilard returned the grin and stepped forward for a hug. They parted, and Maldynado studied his friend. It had only been three months, but Basilard appeared... more stately than before. Maybe it was the clothing. Instead of the ill-fitting cotton and wool cast-offs he had often worn as an outlaw, he was dressed in supple suede trousers and fringed moccasins. A Mangdorian style, Maldynado assumed, though he hadn’t met many of the people besides Basilard. His tunic was suede, too, dyed a simple off-white and resting beneath a vest made
from shaggy dark fur. A heavy brass chain hung around his neck with a thick rectangular medallion engraved with a hunter holding a spear and crouching beneath a sunburst.
My badge of office, Basilard explained, his fingers flickering in the hand signs he had always used to talk to the group. His clothing might have improved, but the months had done nothing to fix the scar tissue at his throat, nor the briar patch of old gashes crisscrossing his shaven head. Those scars would always be there, and some on his heart as well.
“Yes,” Maldynado said, “I hear you’re a diplomat now. Assigned by your government, I presume? Someone high up in the rankings?”
Basilard nodded.
“How did you earn such an esteemed position?”
Nobody else wanted to deal with the Turgonians.
Maldynado grunted. There was probably a degree of truth in that, but... “There must be more than that. What about your daughter? Did you see her?”
Basilard’s hand rocked side to side in a sort-of motion. Come in. I will explain. This room came with enough liquor to stock a bar. You are welcome to indulge, if you like.
“I shouldn’t indulge too much,” Maldynado said, ambling toward the cabinet Basilard had pointed out. “It looks like I’ll be hopping into a diving suit tomorrow. It’s been a few months since I was nearly killed by some carnivorous underwater monster, so I figured it was time again.” True, this wasn’t quite what he’d had in mind when he came to ask for a job... but if he helped out, something more appealing might come his way. And maybe someone would talk Sicarius and Amaranthe into coming along. That would make things safer. Or more interesting, anyway. Watching someone snip female and—he shuddered—male plant specimens all day might be tedious if nothing interesting happened.
Basilard signed, Diving suits? To examine that plant in the harbor?
“Yes. It’s a beastly thing. I have the hat.”
Basilard blinked. The hat?
“Yes, to prove that I survived its incursion. That’s what the merchant said anyway. I simply found it intriguing. I was going to wear it here tonight, but Sespian suggested something more sedate for a meeting with the president.” Maldynado poured two snifters of apple brandy. “I don’t know. Starcrest looked tired and grim. A vine-covered hat might have amused him.”
I did not think I would ever say—sign—this, but I have missed the team’s exploits.
“I bet you could come with us. Starcrest seemed concerned about letting his daughter go down there without a lot of hulking men around to protect her. Though after seeing her twirl those specimen-collecting scissors, I’m not sure how much help she needs.”
Basilard’s blue eyes twinkled. Little, I would guess. Remember the ship? He waved in the direction of Fort Urgot, where the ancient craft had ultimately been destroyed in the sky.
“How could I forget it? But, Bas, confession time. How’d you really get this gig?” Maldynado handed him one of the glasses. “Look at this room. It’s posh. Quite an upgrade from underground pumping stations and the like, eh? But how are you going to be diplomatic with anyone when so few people can understand your hand signs?”
I have an assistant. Basilard’s smile turned smug. She has her own room. Also posh.
“No kidding? A Mangdorian? Someone who’s learned your extra signs? And can translate? And did you say she? Is she sexy? Does she like you?” Maldynado faltered as a thought rushed into his mind. “Er, it’s not your daughter, is it?”
Basilard’s smile faded, and Maldynado regretted voicing the question.
She is somewhat of an important person in my country, but she’s also a teacher. We met last month. She works with handicapped children and was intrigued by the modifications I made to the Mangdorian hunting code. Some of her students are deaf or mute.
“That’s brilliant, Bas. I never would have thought of the less, er, tactical applications for your signs, but that makes perfect sense.”
Actually sharing the hand language was Professor Komitopis’s idea. She planted it in my brain last winter.
“Ah. Did she also suggest you seek out your head chief or whoever runs your country to ask for this job?” Maldynado should have learned more about Mangdoria at some point, but Basilard had never spoken of his family or his homeland often. It had always pained him too much. Since his people were religious pacifists, he had, after the killing he had done in the pit fights and later as a mercenary, worried he would never have a place among them again.
That came about because of... a certain awkwardness. With me.
“Because of your scars and... past?”
Basilard nodded. I was determined to see my daughter and the friends and family I had grown up with, and I did, but I was... judged harshly by our priests and... many of my kin. He shrugged, though it didn’t come across as blasé as he probably intended. The humor had left his eyes. I anticipated as much. I was allowed to see my daughter, but it was made clear that I wasn’t welcome, not for the long term.
“Oh. Sorry, Bas.” Maldynado didn’t know anything more useful to say, so he took a swig from his snifter and waved at Basilard’s glass, suggesting he should do the same.
I wish I could have spent more time with my daughter, because she seemed... curious about me. She did remember me, at least.
“That’s something. You’d been gone for several years, right?”
Yes. As to how I came to the chief’s attention, I can thank the makarovi.
Maldynado curled a lip. He couldn’t imagine thanking those horrible beasts for anything. “How so?”
At the time, I didn’t know why I was doing it, but before I left the capital, I cured a pelt and made a necklace of teeth and claws.
“That passes for fashion in Mangdoria, does it?”
For all that we—they—are a peaceful people, Mangdorians value great hunters. The makarovi may be rare, but they have long hunted in the same mountains where we live. As a child, you’re told not to wander into the woods, or the makarovi will get you. There have been only a few times when my people have succeeded in slaying one, so when I came in wearing the proof of the deed—
“Dear ancestors, Basilard, is that what this shaggy fur is?” Maldynado tugged at the coarse black stuff on his vest. “I just thought you were cold. Very cold.”
Makarovi fur, yes.
Maldynado sniffed the air experimentally. “How did you manage to get rid of the smell?”
My people are also expert fur and leather workers.
“Trade secret, eh?”
Basilard nodded. So, news that I had slain makarovi reached the chief, and he called me to his yurt.
“His yurt? Your people live extravagantly, don’t they?” Yurts. Please. No wonder Basilard had come back to the empire.
Basilard shrugged. It’s a big yurt. Regardless, I had a long discussion with him, much to the irritation of his spiritual advisor. The priest stood in the background, glowered at me, and kept making signs to ward off the wrath of God.
Remembering that Basilard actually believed he was going to some Mangdorian hell for his sins, Maldynado kept himself from making a snide comment about the religion and the idiot priests who preached it. Anyone who couldn’t see that Basilard was a good human being... ought to be gnawed on by wild animals. Makarovi, perhaps.
The chief was more reasonable. He listened to my story, all of it. He suggested that a position going back and forth between Mangdoria and Turgonia as a diplomat would allow me to see my daughter on occasion without... making the whole village—and myself—uncomfortable by trying to live there permanently. It is not ideal, but it is perhaps the best I could hope for. In time... Basilard finished with a shrug.
“That’s smart of your chief, not to waste your talent and connections.”
Talent? Do you believe sticking knives in people will be required to negotiate with the president?
“You have other talents, Bas. You’re patient and you listen well, and you’re easy to confide in. Those sound like diplomacy things to me. Although
...” Maldynado tapped his chin. “A lot of important meetings do take place in the gymnasium here. If I were you, I wouldn’t let those defensive skills of yours get rusty.”
I see. Perhaps we shall have to spar while I’m here.
“I may have an even better idea for a spot of training.” Maldynado thought his casual statement sly, but Basilard’s eyes closed to suspicious slits immediately.
Does it involve diving suits?
“Whatever makes you think that?” Maldynado finished his brandy and set the snifter down. “Now, why don’t you tell me more about this cute translator of yours? She is cute, isn’t she?”
Chapter 6
Tikaya had already searched the library, so she didn’t know why she was searching again, other than that Rias spent a lot of time in there. The attached conference rooms were more spacious than his office, so he met with groups there daily. Also, their own suite was on the floor directly above the library and in the same wing of the hotel. That might be close enough to affect him. A mind-altering artifact would need to be in close proximity to him for a few hours a day to have an impact, and she had already scoured the suite from within and found nothing.
On a whim, Tikaya climbed one of the sturdy bookcases so she could peer across the aisles from above. She hadn’t looked up there last time. Alas, she found nothing except dust and cobwebs. She would check his office next. It had been locked the last time she had tried. The last destination on her list was the gymnasium, though she hoped to find something elsewhere, so she could avoid that. The men might think her odd—or lascivious—if she kept strolling through their sacred area of steam, wrestling, and nudity.
A throat cleared behind her. “Mother?”
“Yes?” Tikaya refused to feel embarrassed because she was standing three shelves up on a bookcase.
“Have you... read all the other tomes already, and you’re looking for some choice gem that might have been hidden?”
“No.” Tikaya climbed down, careful not to miss a step and tumble—Rias wasn’t around to catch her. “I’m looking for...” As she turned to face her daughter, she saw Mahliki wasn’t alone.
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